Liar // Patrick Hockstetter x fem!Reader x Henry Bowers

Twenty-Three 》Fucking Slut

You were in a daze, too shocked to move. And with a sad expression plastered onto your face, you watched your boyfriend disappear to probably get his clothes and leave.

You needed to do something. Anything. But you didn't want him to slap you again... You had thought he wasn't that violent anymore, at least not towards you.

Should you run after him? Could you run after him? Your Body still wasn't moving an inch.

Trying your best to get a clear mind, you closed your eyes for some seconds. Your hand left your hurt and - by now - red cheek.

Then you started to make your way out of the water, going as fast as you could before you finally stepped onto hard ground again.

"Henry.", you shouted. He was way too far away from you, so you needed to speed up even more.

You started running as fast as you could. "Henry, wait! Please wait!", you cried out when you saw your - hopefully still - boyfriend fully clothed and on his way back home or wherever he planned on going.

He was straight up ignoring you. "Henry!", you yelled, your voice breaking in the end.

You didn't know what to do. But you definitely knew, that you wanted him to stay. You didn't want to loose him.

"Henry stay! Wait! I didn't have anything going on with Patrick, just...", you shouted, coming to an end, since Henry stopped too.

"Believe me...", you whispered, tears escaping your eyes when he turned around.

He looked at you, anger, pain, distance and hate in his eyes, but he still didn't respond. "Yesterday I came h-here and went swimming... Wha-When I left the water, he was- he was just suddenly there!"

His expression didn't change. "Henry...", you muttered again, taking a step forward. And another one.

"Henry, please, say something.", you pleaded, walking even closer just to be stopped by him.

As you tried laying your hand down onto his chest he smacked it away harshly and grabbed your wrist afterwards.

The tears still stung in your eyes... You weren't sure if you were supposed to talk, so you simply didn't.

In silence, the both of you exchanged looks. Your's was desperate, sad and as shameful as it could be.

Henry's was emotionless... nearly. Somewhere behind the monotone tone of his gaze was sadness.

He wanted to believe you so badly, but he couldn't. So many people had left him in his life and he didn't want you to leave him too... for his fucking "best friend".

So, he needed to leave you first.

And leave you heartbroken, so you didn't want to start a new relationship and didn't want him back, either.

He wanted you to go your own way, without Patrick Hockstetter being by your side to manipulate you.

Or himself by your side to get hurt by you. He had to break your heart, so you thought bad about relationships.

Roughly, he pushed your arm away for good and turned around. In one last attempt, you grabbed his forearm.

It turned out to be a pretty bad idea, since he was fast to turn around, get rid of your hand on him and then slap you right across the face.

"Fucking. Slut.", he spat out, his eyes staring at something behind you.

A sob escaped your open lips. "Wha-" You got interrupted by the blonde boy, who was looking back down at you.

"Don't ever talk to me again, you worthless whore.", he hissed, "And don't fucking let me catch you with that son of a bitch I used to call a friend."

You shivered, your lips trembling and your eyes loosing tear after tear.

"Please, if you would just-"

Again you were distracted as soon as you tried to lay your hand down on his arm.

Henry punched you in the face this time, although he made sure not to seriously injure you. He still adored you and didn't want to destroy your pretty face.

Even though - thinking about it some more - that might actually be a good idea. If you weren't as pretty as you were right now, no guy would look after you.

He forced you to the ground, pinning your wrists down beside your head.

This action caused you to widen your eyes in fear. More fear than you had ever felt over the last two years.

It reminded you of your last day in Derry and it reminded him as well. The look on your face made him realize what he was doing.

The image of your thirteen year old self flashed up in front of his eyes, causing him to hesitantly loosen the grip on your arms.

He spat down next to your head and stood up, not bothering to look at your shivering body.

Now, the amount of tears had gotten ten times worse. What was he about to do? He wouldn't have done the same as two years ago, would he?

He still loved you, didn't he?